


new heights

by LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch



Series: rie's destiel smut bingo [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Doctor Castiel, Dom Castiel, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Light BDSM, M/M, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Sex Toys, Sub Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-14 02:15:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15378504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch/pseuds/LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch
Summary: Dean wants to try something new and Cas is more than ready to go with it. What follows, involves a silk scarf, a vibrating plug and a rearrangement of plans.Written for the destielsmutbingo.B1: Something new.





	new heights

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed a quick 1k thing, but it had a mind of its own. I'll write more for the Smut Bingo, hopefully soon, each piece a different AU. So stay tuned.

 

 

It all began with a simple sentence, but a lot of life-changing things do, in Dean’s experience.

“I wanna try something new,” Dean had said one evening while they were lying in bed together, watching the latest episode of The Queer Eye.

Cas is methodical to the bone. He doesn’t half-ass things like Dean who rushes in and thinks about the consequences later. Cas does research and he makes plans. He likes to be as prepared as possible. It’s a good thing, too, Dean reasons, because Cas is a surgeon and it’s probably better to have plan before you cut someone open.

Anyways, that’s how Dean ended here, on his knees in the living room, stark naked. The blinds in their house are drawn so none of the neighbors can see Dean quivering with expectant excitement. They don’t get to see Cas in his favorite sweatpants and a once-black t-shirt that’s faded from being washed and worn for years either, which is a pity, because he looks hot like hell.

At the moment, Cas putters in the kitchen, an open space at the other side of the room. He’s chopping onions for dinner like it’s the most normal thing in the world to do while Dean kneels next to the dining table with his hands bound behind his back.

Dean wriggles to feel the binds on his wrists cut deeper into his skin. It’s a silk scarf that won’t leave any marks and it’s actually quite comfortable as long as Dean keeps still. Which he can’t. The movement also makes him aware of the small plug in his ass that Cas put there about an hour ago. From time to time, Dean has to clench to keep it in place. It’s doing nothing much, but works as a constant reminder that the evening is far from over.

He looks down at his half-erect cock that’s hanging heavy between his open thighs. He’s been in this weird grey state of arousal for the last 60 minutes and wonders how long his body can keep it up. He had checked the boxes for edging, humiliation, bondage, sex toys and quite a few more on Cas’ form. The papers had lain freshly printed on the dining table one afternoon, two sets so each of them had a copy, because that’s just the way Cas works when he’s got a new project.

They had filled out the forms and Cas had put them away in the top drawer of the chest by the window, had closed the curtains. Then he’d fucked Dean right there on the table, until Dean had bitten his fist to keep himself from screaming Cas’ name and had come all over himself almost untouched. Hid dick perks up again at the memory and the plug feels bigger all of a sudden.

“Everything all right?” Cas leans against the kitchen counter. Dean doesn’t know how long he’s been watching, but a small knowing smile curls the corners of his soft mouth.

Dean smiles back at him – more of a strained grin really. “Everything’s just peachy,” he answers and lets his frustration with the situation slip into his voice.

Cas arcs one of his perfect eyebrows at the tone, but he doesn’t react other than turning his back to Dean again and getting the tomatoes out of the fridge.

Dean lets out a sigh. He wriggles on his haunches and bites his lip at the slow stimulation inside him that’s just enough to keep his body alert, but in no way satisfied. When he settles into the new position and tries to think about something else, Cas goes over to the table in the kitchen and takes a long, black thing in hand. Dean has only a second to brace himself and regret his cheekiness. The plug comes to live with a hum and starts to vibrate inside him. Dean hadn’t thought the toy came even close to his prostrate, but apparently, Cas doesn’t do things by halves. It would be so him to measure it just for this exact situation.

A high whine slips past his lips before he snaps them shut. The sudden stimulation after the long waiting period is almost too much. His whole lower body goes from more or less relaxed to tense in the blink of an eye. Dean can feel the blood rushing south so fast he’s dizzy with it, can watch his cock filling out and curving up against his stomach. Every time he clenches around the toy, mostly involuntarily, the vibration intensifies.

“Fuck,” he whispers. Sweat is running down his back and pools in the dip of his collarbone.

“Do you want your chicken extra spicy?” Cas, that asshole, asks from the kitchen. “I think I still have some of the chili peppers in oil somewhere.” He looks at Dean all casual, but Dean can see the strain in his shoulders and the blush on his cheeks. The table is in the line of sight, but he’ll bet his Impala that Cas is hard as a brick. He licks his lips at the thought of Cas touching the thick bulge in his sweatpants when Dean’s not looking. It’s all part of the game, and Dean is shocked to realize how much he loves it.

He takes a deep breath and tries to shut the onslaught on his senses out.

“Yeah, that would be nice, thank you honey,” he says and his voice sounds almost steady, at least until Cas turns up the vibration another notch while Dean is still speaking. His head falls forward and he curls into himself as if he wants to run away from the sensation. His arm muscles cramp with the need to do something, anything about the constant pressure on his prostrate and the growing need to move, to touch himself, to fucking come.

His blood is pulsing in his gut. Waves of tension move through him – whenever he fights to relax, the toy threatens to slip out and he has to tense to keep it in. After long minutes he debates to just let it go, ready to admit defeat. But Dean is not the only one who knows his partner better than anyone else. Cas is well aware of Dean’s thick-headed mulishness. When he starts something, he gets it done, no matter the cost.

So he endures. He clenches, and groans lowly at the resulting stimulation, and he relaxes a fraction and sighs when the plug eases the pressure on his sweet spot the tiniest fraction, until he has to clench again. Precome is slowly dribbling on the hardwood floors, building a small pool of bitter desperation. He’s sweating profusely now, can feel the drops slide down his spine and into his crease.

From the sounds of it, Cas is putting the dish containing their dinner into the oven. He washes his hands and then, _finally!,_ he comes over. Dean sees his naked feet first and slowly lifts his head. It weighs about a ton after the ordeal of the last minutes.

“If you could see yourself, you look so pretty,” Cas whispers. He knows Dean well, alright. If he had called Dean a slut, Dean wouldn’t have blinked. Now, though, the blood in his groin fights to push upwards again and make him flush with embarrassment at the praise.

Cas leans down to press a soft kiss against Dean’s chapped and bitten lips. Dean mewls and chases the contact, not caring about how needy he must look. If Cas would just touch him, or come a little closer, Dean could rub himself against him …- But Cas is already standing again and starts to lay out the plates and cutlery on the dining table.

“Cas, please,” Dean rasps. He hates begging. He always prided himself with his ability to care for himself. He raised his little brother almost on his own, put him through college, took over the old auto shop from his uncle Bobby and transformed it into a thriving business that specialized on vintage cars. Dean Winchester doesn’t need anything from anyone and is perfectly fine on his own. That’s what he thought anyway. Until he came to in a hospital bed three years ago after a car accident and first looked into the bluest eyes on this planet. They were crinkled with concern at that time, and matched the deep gravelly voice that told Dean in no uncertain terms that he could very well have died that night if he hadn’t had some guardian angel watching over him.

In Dean’s opinion, Dean’s guardian angel had been Cas, and since then, he’d saved Dean in more ways than one. Dean’s never been in a relationship like this, where he feels comfortable with being vulnerable, where he chooses to let the other person truly see him. A relationship where he trusts his partner enough to kneel, bound, on the floor with a freaking vibrating plug in his ass that seems to be crafted for the sole purpose to make his brain melt out of his ears.

When Cas is done setting the table, he stand quietly behind Dean. “Bend forward until your forehead reaches the floor,” Cas instructs in a stern, low voice that sends tingles down Dean’s spine. He obeys, moaning all the way down when the movement respositions the plug in new, torturous ways.

Cas’ hands are cold on his cheeks, but warm up quickly on Dean’s heated skin. Dean holds his breath when Cas spreads him, presumably to have a better look at his quivering hole. The plug is tugged and moved around while Dean fights to hold still. Cas pulls it out slowly and pushes in again. Dean can feel Cas’ breath on his sweaty skin. The spot where Cas’ left hands holds him open and exposed is burning by now. Dean can’t help the small, desperate sounds that accompany every little movement of the plug. It’s wider in the middle, tear-shaped, and Cas seems to enjoy holding it at the widest point just a little bit longer each time he pulls it out, each time he pushes it in.

“You’re doing so well,” Cas praises. “Kneeling for me and taking whatever I give to you.” There’s wonder in his voice, and the distinctive rasp that only comes out when he’s seriously turned on. The clap of a lube bottle reaches Dean’s ears. Dean keens. “Tell me what you want,” Cas orders, still keeping his motions slow and steady.

“I want you to fuck me, please, Cas,” Dean mumbles. Cas finds his prostrate with precision on every thrust in, but the mind-searing pressure is always gone too soon.

“Mmmmhhh,” Cas hums, as if he’s never heard such an outlandish idea before. If he didn’t have his hands full with torturing Dean, he’d tap his index finger against his nose, Dean thinks spitefully, and he would laugh about the image if he wasn’t fully occupied with keeping himself from getting up and finding a way to make Cas fuck him, bound hands be damned, he’d find a way, he’d –

“I think you need a little more preparation,” Cas tells him and shoves his index finger in him alongside the plug, all freshly lubed – however he did that, god only knows, and it’s only a finger, for god’s sake, but after an hour of agony, it’s a lot. It burns a little, but mostly, it feels so fucking good, Dean cries out and pushes back to take it faster. He’s rewarded with a sharp slap against his left cheek.

“Keep still or I’ll find something else to do and leave you here.”

Dean doesn’t want that. He can take it. He sets his jaw in resolve and closes his eyes tightly, tries to relax and comply with whatever Cas wants to do to him. At the moment, Cas wants to curl his finger and massage his prostrate while the toy still buzzes happily and is shoved unceremoniously in and out of Dean. Dean would be impressed by the level of skill and coordination Cas exhibits, but he’s busy with pumping air into his burning lungs and through his raw throat between the broken moans and pitiful whimpers Cas forces out of him.

How long has this been going on? His muscles tremble with the exertion and his cock feels swollen to bursting with the need to come, his balls tighten as if they want to flee the scene. And Cas is relentless. He uses a second finger, pushes in alongside the plug with a squelching, filthy sound. Dean’s hole must look puffed and abused, lose and open by now.

When Cas keeps it up, he will be able to just slide into Dean without any resistance. Cas seems to have the same thought, maybe, hopefully, because a second later, the plug and the fingers are gone and Dean clenches around nothing. He can feel how he’s gaping open, slick with lube, waiting to be fucked.

He’s panting as if he’d just run a mile and tries to ready his body for what comes next. He strains to hear the soft sound of clothes being shoved out of the way, then, even quieter, flesh meeting flesh. Cas’ hand on his cock, accompanied with dark rasps. Dean angles his neck to look behind him, because he has to see Cas, see if he’s as affected as Dean.

Cas sits behind him on his haunches, sweatpants pushed to his thighs, hair gloriously disheveled, hand on his cock. His eyes glued to the spot between Dean’s cheeks where he’s open and oh so ready to be owned and taken. Seeing Cas like this sends a new wave of hunger through Dean, flashing so hot he’s surprised by it.

“Cas,” he tries to say, but his tongue is dry and his throat feels like sandpaper. He swallows. “Cas, I need you, please.”

Cas’ gaze meets his as if he’d forgotten where he is. His gaze is dark, blue irises almost drowned in black. He looks very young. Dean realizes with a start that he’s not the only one who’s overwhelmed by the intensity of this new level in their relationship. It’s thrilling, but also a little terrifying how easy they fall into these new roles, and Cas might be shocked by how much power he wields over Dean, how much he likes it.

“Cas,” Dean says again to get him out of his stupor. “Untie me.” Cas reaches out with shaking hands and opens the knots. He moves like he’s on auto-pilot. When Dean is free, he winces at the sensation of his blood rushing back into his hands. He gets up on his knees and crawls clumsily over to Cas, who still hasn’t moved, frames his hands around Cas’ face and makes him meet his eyes.

“You okay,” Dean asks.

Cas nods. “I’m sorry, I – “

Dean shuts him up with a kiss that’s more tender than he’d gone for. Cas melts against him with a sigh. “Don’t apologize. I got you.” Dean pushes forward and lays Cas out on the floor. His thighs ache after holding his position for so long and his knees will be hurting like hell tomorrow. It’s a price he’s all too willing to pay.

Cas grips his shoulders and pulls Dean down with him, so he has to scramble to get his legs on each side of Cas’ body. They kiss again, soft at first, until Cas gets his bearings and deepens it, parts Dean’s lips with his tongue and pushes in. The heat rises again, and Dean is acutely aware of his throbbing cock rubbing against Cas’ shirt when he moves his hips.

He reaches back and grabs Cas’ dick to angle it up towards his hole. He was right. He’s so open he’s able to sink down on Cas in one swift motion until Cas is seated deep inside him. They both moan when Cas bottoms out and they swallow the sound from each other’s lips.

Dean would like to go slow and savor the moment, but every cell in his body is screaming at him to move. With burning muscles he raises his hips and slams them down, letting his body weight do most of the work for him. Cas cries out and digs his fingers into Dean’s shoulders. Dean puts his palms on Cas’ chest to steady himself. The wet slap of skin on skin echoes through the room, intermingled with choked-out moans and gasps.

Cas’ eyes never leave his as Dean brings his lower body down again and again, his cock slapping obscenely against Cas’ stomach. Cas’ hips buck up to meet him, penetrate him even deeper. Dean doesn’t know from where he takes the strength to keep going at this pace, but he can’t stop now, it’s important to watch Cas lose it and lose himself in the process. Cas is getting close. Years of experience let Dean read the signs in Cas’ clenched jaw, the concentrated crease between his brows, the sheen of sweat on his neck.

“Next time,” Dean pants between the brutal thrusts, “I want to try the spreader bar.”

Cas’ eyes widen. “So you– unggh– so you liked it?”

“Yeah,” Dean breathes and concentrates back on the task to get them both off as fast as possible.

Dean’s right calf chooses this moment to cramp up. He flips to the side ungracefully and lands on his back, reaching for his leg to massage it, laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. Tears are streaming down his face while he wheezes. He’s never going to come, is he, he’ll die here with blue balls. Cas hands are gentle on his calf and dig into the muscle to get it to loosen up. He’s laughing, too. When the cramp is dealt with, he leans over Dean on all fours.

“I love you,” he says simply, as if this whole situation encompasses everything they are to each other, encapsulates the very nature of their bond.

In a way, it does.

“I love you, too,” Dean answers, way more easy than he did at first. He’s never been much for saying it out loud, but Cas, like so often, changed that, too. “I feel like we’re having a moment here, but Cas, honestly, I –

Dean’s legs are spread already, so Cas can easily lower himself to slide back into Dean. It’s a great way to shut Dean up, and it gets even better when Cas curls a hand around Dean’s cock and starts stroking him in time with his deep, languid thrusts. Dean’s fingers are tingling and his heart beats fast and faster in his chest. The fire in his gut, staved off and quelled for so long, flares up again and sends tendrils of pleasure up his spine, down to his toes.

Cas keeps his perfect pace and works Dean higher and higher with determination. “Next time,” he grunts, “next time I’ll make you wear that plug the whole day for me.” Another deep thrust. “And … and _you_ will cook dinner.”

Dean bursts into laughter just as his orgasm finally rips through him. His chuckles mix with his groans, and the combination multiplies the sensations somehow. His cock jerks in Cas’ hand and spits out thick spurts over his belly. Cas smiles, too, before his face slackens and he’s coming, hot and deep inside Dean, as close as he can get.

Cas and Dean come down slowly from laughing and their bone-melting orgasms, limbs tangled together despite their stickiness. When they have caught their breath, they clean up in silence and go back to the kitchen.

The chicken is delicious, even if it’s gotten a little bit burned at the edges. Dean makes a mental note to stock on foods that are very, very easy to prepare. Bread and cheese, maybe.

Or PB & J.

Cas would love that.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [rebloggable tumblr post](https://procasdeanating.tumblr.com/post/176152548431/new-heights-rating-square-filled-b1-something)


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